


East Street Blues

by Blue_Sundays



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Drugs, Hurt Matthew Casey, Multi, Murder Mystery, Past Abuse, confronting the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sundays/pseuds/Blue_Sundays
Summary: An old friend turns up dead and suddenly Matt Casey is thrown back into the midst of the dark past he'd tried so very hard to forget.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	East Street Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how or why this exists but it does. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy and if you think I need to update the tags please let me know!

_ Present _

It’s a routine call as most calls were during the week. The culprit came in the form of a small dumpster fire on the corner of East Avenue and Pemberton Place; nestled in the conjoinment of two apartment buildings that stared down at Truck 81 as they unravelled their hoses and connected them to the fire hydrants. Casey studied the fire intensely, watching as the flames licked the sides of the dumpster. Definitely arson. Dumpster fires usually were the cause of unsettled teenagers playing with matches in places they shouldn’t. Casey sighed and wrung his hands. 

‘Otis, Mouch, let’s get those hoses going.’ he ordered. At least this job was easy enough and Truck 81 could return to their lunch which would inevitably be cold by now.

A small crowd had gathered outside the apartment blocks to watch the great Firehouse 51 tackle the mighty dumpster. Casey rolled his eyes at the crowd’s misplaced curiosity and called for Dawson to push them away from the scene. The fire had slowly begun to subside; there was always a sense of satisfaction when watching the flames dissipate into nothingness as the water hit it even if it was a small fire. It sizzled and hissed until the flames died down on the scorched pavement and a smile forced its way onto Casey’s face - chicken schnitzel at last! Casey’s stomach growled loudly at the thought.

He ordered the team to begin packing up the equipment with a growling belly. A whistle on his lips and thoughts of lunch were interrupted by the voice of Cruz.

‘Lieutenant, you should see this.’ 

The truck driver sounded concerned, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. Casey looked up to see Cruz standing next to the dumpster where the edge of the metal left a small gap between itself and the wall behind it. The bald man had his hands in his pockets, rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet as he stared down at the body of a young woman. Casey’s stomach dropped and all thoughts of lunch disappeared quicker than they appeared. His feet moved quickly as he made his way over to Cruz and the body. Almost immediately his nose was assaulted by the stench of trash and he realised with horror that the stench was not trash as he’d initially thought.

Her face was concealed by thick auburn locks and her skin pale against the grey concrete. The fire had burned her body significantly but the trickles of foamed blood that leaked out from her face and her bloated body meant she’d died earlier. Casey held back a groan as he pushed the thoughts of lunch away from his head. He hated dealing with bodies - the smell, dealing with CPD and the paperwork were enough to make anyone resent it. Still, he had a job to do so he pulled out his radio to notify dispatch and leant down beside her.

The smell was stronger up close and his stomach rolled as bile rose up in his throat. He forced the bile back down, cringing as his throat burned with the acid. He forced himself to put the gloves on his hands and push the auburn hair out of the woman’s face.

He froze.

The bile forced its way out of Casey’s mouth regardless and he pitched forward, only just managing to miss the body as the acidic remnants of his breakfast escaped his mouth.

‘Maya?’ 

‘Matt?’ Dawson’s hand was on his shoulder and she kneeled down next to him. ‘Matt what’s wrong?’

‘I-I-I know her.’

She looked different than when Matt had last seen her. Granted she’d been alive then too. Maya’s hair had been longer then. Her cheeks fuller and skin tanner. Now, her body was decomposing. Blood foamed from her mouth and nose, and there was what was unmistakably a trail of vomit down her shirt. Her eyes stared up at Matt, open and glassy; they had clouded over in her death and the cerulean blue that Matt remembered was no longer visible.

‘What happened to you?’ Matt whispered as he gently closed her eyes with his gloved fingers. ‘What did you do Mi-Oh-Maya?’

She didn’t reply. How could she? They hadn’t spoken in years but she’d been Matt’s confidant when no one else would even spare a glance at him. She’d been doing well the last time Matt had checked. What had changed in the years they hadn’t spoken? It was silly to ask such a question when Matt already knew the answer.

*

Chief Boden walked with his shoulders broad and chest puffed out. Large strides and a glare that meant business. He’d barged his way out of a mandatory battalion chief meeting the second he’d heard Herrmann’s voice over the radio informing him of the body. Chicago PD had been informed and Antonio was supposedly already on scene. Boden had beelined for Matt as soon as he pulled up but the Lieutenant seemingly took no notice of his presence as Boden laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

They’d identified the body already courtesy of Casey. Boden felt a pang in his chest as Dawson worriedly informed him that his lieutenant had yet to move from the body. Something larger was at play here and upon seeing the way Casey knelt against the now tarp covered body as he reached the scene, Boden suspected that this was more than a long lost friend. Matt Casey was notorious for never letting his emotions get in the way of doing his job and that was one thing that Boden had always admired about his truck lieutenant; even in the face of Hallie dying the man had remained professional.. It wasn’t unusual to find the bodies of homeless people out on the streets, especially in the winter chill that had befallen Chicago. It was unusual for someone with Matt Casey’s status to have a connection with the body discovered.

A shadow loomed over the both of them and Boden looked up to see Antonio Dawson above. Boden pursed his lips and Antonio nodded grimly.

‘It looks like an OD Casey.’ Antonio kneeled down next to him, taking note of the way Casey’s hands gripped the pale hand that peeked out from underneath the tarp.

Casey shook his head and stroked the pale hand with his thumb.

‘No.’

‘Matt, she’s showcasing all the signs and symptoms of a drug overdose. Heroin most likely considering the tracks on her arms.’ Antonio held back a sigh, it was always hard for family and friends to come to terms with deaths like this one.

Casey shook his head once more. He had yet to look at Antonio, instead choosing to keep his eyes solely on the body in front of him. 

‘Maya’s been sober for years Antonio. She hasn’t=hadn’t touched thestuff in years.’

Antonio rolled his eyes, thankful for the first time today that Casey seemed to be avoiding his face like the plague. He knew what track marks looked like - old and new.He knew that Casey had the same ones along the insides for his arms - pale and old enough to be invisible to the untrained eye. Even Gabby had yet to spy them. The woman’s marks were clearly new and that was something that he’d have to drill into Casey one way or another.

‘You seem like you were close with her Matt. What’s her name? How do you know her?’

‘Maya. Maya Coleman. We-uh-we used to work together back when I was young.’ The lieutenant’s voice shook as he stumbled over his words. Antonio narrowed his eyes; he’d suspected they’d shot up together when Casey was younger, but he’d never factoried in working together.

‘Where did you work?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Santorelli.’

‘I don’t understand Matt.’

‘Daniel Santorelli did this.’

  
  
  


_ The past will always come to play in the future. _

  
  


Matthew Casey picked a hell of a time to part ways with his latest forster family. The Dreigals weren’t necessarily bad people; Mrs Dreigal was a stay at home mom, Mr Dreigal worked at a car dealership and their son Johnny captained the middle school football team. They were decent folks in the eyes of CPS but Matt knew that the only reason they agreed to foster the son of a murderer was because their mortgage was going up by the year and they needed the extra cash to keep their four bedroom, upper-middle class bungalow. They weren;t necessarily bad people but there’s only so many times one can stand the digs about your family that cut into you like a knife. 

‘I don’t know how you could let her do what she did, Matthew.’ Mrs Dreigal said at breakfast one morning. 

‘You should have stood up for your father.’ on another.

But Mrs Dreigal didn’t understand why Matt’s mom had shot his father down. She didn’t understand why Matt stood up for her or why he insisted on visiting her every two weeks. Truth be told, Matt figured he would be better off on his own anyway. He was two months out from aging out of the system so he might as well get started early. 

He’d taken up residence in an alley out near Alastair Way. Not quite in the poor part of Chicago but close enough that no one batted an eyelid at his makeshift set up; a tent with holes in, one thin blanket and a stash of pringles that was quickly diminishing as each day passed. Matt Casey was cold, hungry and willing to do anything to find somewhere warm to stay for the night. No doubt the police had been informed that he’d run off in the night and his mom would be wondering why he hadn’t bothered to visit the past few weeks. 

Still, Matt was tired, hungry and cold, so when the man with the trimmed beard and suede shoes knelt down by his tent, he’d listened with sharp ears and a penetrating gaze.

‘Daniel Santorelli.’ the man introduced himself. 

He spoke animatedly, arms gesticulating wildly and a distinct Boston accent that spoke the words so fast that before Matt had time to register what he was saying, he was already packing up his tent and stumbling to his feet.

If Matt hadn’t been so desperate for a bite then maybe he’d have listened properly. Maybe he would have distanced himself from Daniel Santorelli, told him there was no way he’d do what he did for him just for a shoddy roof over his head and a bite to eat. But desperation is an emotion not easily swayed and before Matt had a chance to pack up his tent properly he was whisked away to  _ Santorelli’s Bar  _ down on East Street.

There was a bedroom already made up when he got there. A double bed with a dresser and a boombox took up most of the room. It was cramped with patchy walls and a droopy ceiling but all Matt could see was the soft pink comforter folded at the end of the bed.

‘Here.’ Santorelli said, handing Matt a bag of clothes and shower gel. ‘Shower, get changed and we’ll talk over the conditions of your tenancy when you’re finished.’

Matt nodded, taking the bag from Santorelli’s hand.

‘I’ll be down at the bar.’ Santorelli grunted, lighting a cigarette up as he sauntered off down the corridor. 

Matt flopped himself down on the bed, noting the way the springs groaned underneath his weight. He reflexively curled his fingers back and forth as he studied the room. It was messy. Hair straighteners and makeup left on the dresser, clothes strewn across the floor and a lace bra hanging off the door handle.

‘Santorelli doesn’t like to be kept waiting, roomie.’ 

Matt jumped at the sound of the voice. Soft and a little nasally, it came from the auburn haired girl leaning against the door frame. She couldn’t have been older than Matt with pale skin and black eyeliner smudged around her eyes. Her grey dress hung loose on her frame. She looked down at him and Matt instinctively curled in on himself under her sharp gaze. She clicked her tongue. 

‘I’m Maya. You better not be a kicker when you sleep or we’re gonna have a problem.’

_ * _

_ Santorelli’s Bar  _ still looked the same all those years later. It was still a shithole with its smoke yellow ceiling, vomit stained carpets and ever present haze of marijuana smoke. He’d sworn to never come back here again but with his fists curled so tightly together the knuckles grew white, Matt had burst the door open and here he was. It was surprisingly empty for midday with chairs propped up on the tables and a pile of clean glasses on top of the bar ready to be put away. Opening times must have changed. 

Matt navigated his way through the maze of tables and chairs to the small, inconspicuous door behind the counter. The door was covered in wallpaper in a poor attempt to conceal but Matt’s two year tenancy in the pub ensured him knowledge of all the routes of the building. The door squeaked open and the smell of cigarette smoke hit harsher. Matt coughed at the ashy scent and continued his way through the building. 

Two lefts. One right. Third door on the right.

The door was open just a crack. Enough that Matt could peer in and see the man himself surrounded by four of his lackeys. Santorelli looked older which was to be expected. It had been over fifteen years since he’d seen him last. That didn’t mean that the shock of seeing Santorelli’s wrinkled skin and salt and pepper hair was any lesser. He sat in a red leather chair, sipping whisky from a crystal goblet and a spliff hanging from his mouth. Santorelli still looked as suave as ever and Matt suddenly felt underdressed. 

He and his men seemed to be discussing something but their voices were ever so slightly muffled so Matt could only catch the odd sentence or two. 

‘...need worker…Friday night...big client…’ Santorelli seemed to be angry. Matt watched as the man’s fingers whitened around the goblet and his face grew red.

‘...perhaps Ava… exceptional…’ the man to Santorelli’s left piped up.

The goblet shattered. The sound reverberated around the room and silence descended upon the five men. Santorelli held his hand out to the man on his right, blood dripping off his fingers and onto the table. The man nodded and ripped the sleeve from his shirt, hastily bandaging the hand. Santorelli did not flinch, instead he lowered his voice.

‘I need someone with experience. Someone who owes me a favour.’ Santorelli’s eyes flicked up to the crack in the door, Matt froze as the black eyes bore into his. ‘You’ll do.’

  
  


_ * _

The water was hot against Matt’s skin and he shut his eyes as the droplet washed away two weeks worth of dirt and grime into the drain. They’d supplied him with a clean set of clothes and thin towel and as he forced himself to shut the shower off an uneasy feeling came over him. His parent’s had always warned him to never talk to strangers and yet here he was looking to negotiate a tenancy above a bar with a man he barely knew.

Matt shook his head. This had to be better than living on the streets. Maybe this would give him a shot at college or an opportunity to move out on his own. At least for now he wouldn’t have to worry about hypothermia. He dried himself off as quick as he could and tipped the bag of clothes onto the floor.

One set of underwear.

A pair of white socks.

Black dress pants.

White shirt.

One black tie.

Matt frowned. These seemed far too fancy. All he needed was a pair of jeans and a shirt. Unless this was part of the tenancy deal. He sighed and began to dress himself, silently thanking his dad, God rest his soul, that he’d taught him how to tie a tie. There were no dress shoes in the bag so Matt slipped on his muddy Walmart sneakers back on and headed back to the bedroom.

Maya was lying on the bed when he got there and she sat up with a smirk as he dumped his old clothes on the bed and uncomfortably fiddled with the tie around his neck.

‘Come one, I’ll take you to Santorelli.’

She led him down three flights of stairs and through a door on the right. Santorelli had perched himself on a red leather chair with a tall glass of something. There were four men surrounding him. He smiled good-naturedly at Matt as he entered the room and gestured for him to sit on the wooden chair opposite him. 

‘Come Matty, sit.’ he said. ‘Have a drink of my finest.’

The man on his right shoved a tall glass in Matt’s hand and proceeded to pour amber liquid into it. Whisky maybe? Matt quietly thanked the man and hoped he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. 

‘Now then, let’s go over what your payment includes to keep your tenancy in my house.’ Santorelli leaned forward on his hands and a serious look entered his eyes. Matt’s heart began to pump in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the room. He turned around to find Maya shutting the door behind her as she exited the room.

‘You work for me now. I have a series of clients who are looking for, let me see..’ Santorelli pulled a stack of white papers from underneath the desk and squinted at them. ‘Ah, yes. Blond. Male. Must be between 15-18 years. Matthew Casey, the job is yours.’

‘Wh-what does that mean?’

‘Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.’

‘I-I can’t do that.’

Santorelli’s expression darkened and he stood up from his seat and sauntered his way around the table until he stood behind Matt. He rested a hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in like knives. He leaned down until his lips touched Matt’s ear and he could feel the hot breath.

‘You don’t have a choice.’ he whispered.

*

It was a mistake going to confront Santorelli. In the years since he’d left Matt figured that his fear of the man would have disappeared in the wind like his fear of spiders. Alas it was not the case. He’d gone in there guns blazing only to be dragged back into the man’s mess again. He couldn’t do it. Not again. Santorelli might be downright terrifying but there was no way Matt could live with himself if he worked for the man ever again. 

He knew what he had to do. 

*

He’d not gone back up to his room after his meeting with Santorelli. The older man kicked the other four men out of the room and beckoned Matt forward. He pointed at Matt to sit on the seat next to him and he proceeded to pull out a tub of glitter.

‘I have your first client for you.’ he said, roughly grabbing Matt’s chin and forcing his head upwards. ‘You will do everything he asks for, understood?’

Matt’s heart pounded in his chest and he tried to nod but Santorelli’s grip was firm. The man dipped a brush in the glitter and roughly began to paint it on his cheek bones.

‘Here’s some tips for you young Matty.’ he pulled a black eye liner pencil out and roughly began to trace it around Matt’s eyelids, tongue poking through his teeth. ‘You speak only when spoken too. If my client asks you to do something you do it. He asks you cluck like a chicken, you fucking cluck like a chicken. He says swallow, you swallow. If he so much as asks you to jump, what do you say in return?’

Santorelli raised his eyebrow up at Matt, seemingly waiting for an answer.

‘I-I don’t know sir?’

Santorelli sighed and roughly let go of Matt’s face.

‘You say how fucking high. Got it?’

‘Y-yes sir.’

‘Here, give me your arm.’

Matt held his arm out to Santorelli, trying his best to stop the tremors throughout his body. Santorelli rolled the sleeve up and began to tie a shoelace around his bicep.

‘I know this is a rough business, so here’s a little present to keep you relaxed while you’re working.’

He shoved the needle in before Matt had a chance to realise what it was.

*

  
  


Maya was already curled up underneath the covers by the time Matt had finished with Robert Debaure. He’d beelined straight to the shower the second he’d left the dingy room they’d been curled up in for hours. Matt had never been one for long showers but he’d stood underneath the hot water for what felt like hours, slowing his breaths down as the scalding water reddened his skin. He’d been floating all night. Santorelli wasn’t lying when he said the needle would help. 

Debaure was rough. He’d created violet bracelets around Matt’s wrists and spat on his face. The black slacks would need a run through the wash for sure. If Matt had been sobered he probably would have fought back,refused to do what Debaure had asked him to but the needle was strong and Matt had barely felt a thing.

He felt it now though. And the bruises decorated his body. Purples, blues and greens. They wouldn’t have a chance to heal fully until two years later.

Matt wasn’t sure how long he spent scalding himself under the water but long enough for him to have found the kitchen scourer to scrub at the marks. The skin had began to peel in the thin strips that formed into little balls on the grimy shower floor and it stung as each droplet landed on the raw skin. 

The bedroom was dark when he finally crawled into the creaky bed next Maya. The skinny girl sighed audibly as the mattress sank with his weight and she turned around to face him. 

‘You still have glitter on your face.’

She lifted a bony finger and gently wiped his face. An action so soft and gentle that hot tears immediately sprang to the backs of his eyes. Don’t cry, he told himself. No avail, the tears slowly began to fall down his face and Maya pressed a soft kiss to his temple and wrapped her arms around him. 

‘The first is always the hardest.’

*

The Police Department always had an awful chill to it whenever Matt walked in the building. He’d never tell Antonio that though. Matt was still cursing himself out for ever thinking that going back to Santorelli was ever a good idea. Antonio had called him into the station early, saying something about needing more information on Santorelli and why Maya might have been involved with him. To say Matt was dreading that talk was an understatement. Matt’s past in  _ that  _ industry was something he’d kept under wraps for years and he didn’t want it to come out now.

‘Lieutenant, thanks for coming in.’ Ruszek greeted him outside the Intelligence Department and guided him towards Antonio’s desk. The man had piles of paperwork stacked on his desk and he waved Matt over to the desk. 

‘You mentioned Daniel Santorelli yesterday at the scene Matt.’ Antonio wasn’t one to beat around the bush and he looked at Matt with a sharp gaze that forced Matt to look anywhere but into his eyes. 

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Santorelli is a known pimp and drug dealer to PD, Casey. He’s not exactly someone who’s known to the general public. Which begs the question, why do you know of him?’

Antonio tapped his pen on the desk and Matt tried to ignore the way that the other officers in the room were pretending not to listen in to the conversation. He stared down at his hands, eyes tracing the scars marking them after years of firefighting. He took a deep breath. 

‘I used to work for him back when I was 17/18. I was living on the streets and he gave me an out. All I had to do was satisfy his clients and he’d let me stay in one of the rooms above the bar.’

‘And Maya, did she do the same?’

‘Yes, she got there before me but we were roommates. She patched my scars and I patched hers.

‘Santorelli is known for getting his workers hooked on heroin, as far as I’m aware you don’t have a record of drug addiction Casey.’

Matt snorted.

‘I never got myself clean through rehab. I quit cold turkey a month before I entered the academy. I haven’t touched it since.’

‘Well, we know he definitely had something to do with the death of Maya. All we need is a way to get concrete proof that Santorelli was involved.

‘I’ll wear a wire.’

‘You haven’t seen him in years. I’m not sure that would work.’

‘I went back yesterday. He offered me a job. I’ll accept and wear a wire. Maya never deserved this.’

Antonio sighed and tapped his pen on the desk again. He drew his gaze up to Voight who’d been listening in from Lindsay’s desk. The Sergeant nodded.

‘Get him a wire.’

*

Boden watched from the door of his office as Casey rounded the corner. The Truck Lieutenant had purple bags under his eyes and a grey pallor to his skin. Boden had never seen the young man quite like this before and it worried him that the death of someone who he had no clue Casey was close with could affect him so deeply. He resolved to keep a close eye on the man, and knew that 51 would do the same without Boden having to ask. 

‘Chief, you wanted to see me?’ Casey knocked on the door, and Boden nodded as he took note of the way Casey hid his trembling fingers from him. 

‘Take a seat Lieutenant.’

Casey lowered himself into the chair and bounced his leg up and down on the floor. He seemed nervous, distracted. Boden reminded himself that this was normal for someone dealing with loss.

‘Is this about Maya?’

‘Yes, Casey.’ Boden leaned forward on his desk. ‘I want you to know that myself and all of 51 are rallying themselves around you. It’s never easy to lose someone but to find out the way you did is even more so.’

‘Chief, I’m okay. I promise.’ 

‘Okay. I just want you to know that we’ve got your back.’

Casey smiles but the action doesn’t reach his eyes and he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Damn Casey for being the stubborn idiot he is! Boden pulls his glasses off and rests his head on his hands. He sighs. This will be a long shift if Casey’s behaviour is anything to go by. 

It should be general knowledge by now that Lieutenant Casey hates being confronted or pitied. Even more so when he's surrounded by people. Herrmann and the rest of Truck 81 know they’re in for a long shift when Casey walks in with an unreadable expression on his face and tells them to scrub the truck from top to bottom. He should go and confront Casey about what happened. It’s Herrmann’s duty as a veteran to know when he’s needed to step in and provide wise words. But Herrmann knows that the younger firefighter won’t listen to him just quite yet. So he fills up a hot soapy bucket and grabs out the sponges. His fingers will be ruined for the rest of the day but at least the act of cleaning the truck will keep the lieutenant somewhat calm. 

When nightfalls they’ve only been to three rescues total and Casey had seemed fine. Boden had kept his eye on the truck company, readying himself to step in if and when Casey needed it. He had yet to do so. Perhaps it was one of the qualities that Boden both admired and hated about the truck lieutenant; the ability to remain calm and professional in the wake of a crisis was both admirable and concerning. A knock on his door pulls him out of his thoughts and none other than Christopher Herrmann plops himself down on the sofa.

‘We gotta do something.’ he says. Boden doesn’t have to question for a second the perpetrator behind Herrmann’s worries.

‘He says he’s fine Chris and I can’t force him to do anything unless he displays anything that proves it’s affecting his work ethic. So far it isn’t.’

‘I know Chief but something ain't right.’ Herrmann lets out a deep sigh and rubs his chin, a gesture that Boden has come to know means worry. ‘He just stumbled across an old friend’s dead body last shift and he comes in today looking dead on his feet. I can’t sit there knowing that he's hurting and won’t get help.’

‘The best we can do is show our support through actions Chris, anything else and he’ll shut us out even more.’

‘I hate knowing that you’re right.’

*

The room was cold, like someone left the heating off in the middle of a Chicago winter. Maya sivered underneath her thin dress and Matt did his best to wrap his arms around her to keep some warmth. Santorelli had ordered them down into the basement muttering something about a big pay day. Matt dreaded those big pay days as did Maya. They’d be stuck down here for hours with groups of men and women who had strange requests and nasty fetishes. Matt could handle it by himself but seeing Maya made the job all that more painful. No amount of heroin could numb them down enough to relax during those days. 

Later, when they’d retired to their room, Maya would break down and sob into Matt’s shoulder. Matt would sit there and hold her as her shoulders shook and his collar dampened. Santorelli would knock on the door after they’d scrubbed themselves raw in shower with a tourniquet and a needle. They’d sit together on the bed as the older man would mutter words of how well they’d performed during the day and he’d wrap the tourniquet around their arms and pierce their skin with the needle.

Matt loved to float. The room would instantly brighten and a bubble would rise deep in his chest. He’d feel this lightness that he only ever felt with the needle. He’d once asked Santorelli if he could keep some in his and Maya’s bedroom for the really tough days. He still had the scar on his cheek from Santorelli’s ring. 

‘Some clients like you trembling.’

*

He’d booked the shift off early with the excuse that he needed the time to process Maya’s death. Chief Boden seemed shocked for a moment; his eyes widening comically before he composed himself and smiled at Matt. 

‘Off course. I’m glad to see you’re accepting the love and support from 51 Casey.’

Something twisted in Matt’s gut as Boden smiled at him so acceptingly. The man had become a father figure for Matt, even if he had yet to admit it to the chief. It felt wrong to lie to Boden; unnatural that he refused to let Boden in on the operation to take down Santorelli. Antonio had advised him during the run through that he should have someone with him like Gabby, Herrmann or Boden. But Matt had stated he was fine to tackle this one with PD and Pd only.

‘My past is a black mark Antonio and I’ll be damned if the CFD finds out about it.’

Antonio had simply leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. The detective was nothing if not callous with his disapproval and it did nothing to relieve the tension in Matt’s body. He’d arrived at PD in the late afternoon and was immediately whisked away to the Intelligence Unit by Antonio and Voight. Santorelli had asked Matt to meet him at his bar around 10pm where he would be waiting with a set of clothes for Matt to change into. Santorelli had offered a hit to compensate Matt for his service but Matt had politely declined. He’d been sober for X years now and he wasn’t about to break it again. 

‘Alright Casey. This is the plan,’ Voight perched himself on the edge of Antonio's desk and stared down hard at Matt. ‘You’ll get your wire from Jin and we’ll leave the district around 9pm. This will give us time to set the surveillance van up in place close enough to get you when we need to and far enough away that Santorelli doesn’t notice. We need you to try and pull as much information about Maya from him as you can upon meeting him in the bar. If he doesn’t budge our next option is to have you enter the room with the client and have you receive money off him or her. We can cuff him for running an unsolicited brothel and build a case from there. Any questions?’

‘What if Santorelli does a wire check? We all know what happened last time at  _ Stilletos _ .’

Voight turned his gaze towards Antonio who shuffled in his chair. 

‘Jin’s been working on a collection of wires that aren’t as obvious as the phone. Santorelli’s making you change your clothes, presumably for this exact reason so keychains and the like are out of the question. Gabby did mention that she once spotted you had your ear pierced in an old high school photo she saw?’

‘Yeah, way back when. The hole’s probably closed up now but I’m willing to give it a try.’

*

They used an old sewing needle and dettol to repierce the hole. Matt had refused the numbing gel or ice cube to numb the pain. Antonio lined the needle with the faint scarring wear the earring used to sit and without warning stabbed the bastard into Matt’s ear lobe. He hissed and pulled his hand up to his ear, fingers coated in specks of blood. 

‘Sorry Casey.’ Antonio smirked as he passed Matt a kleenex from Lindsay’s desk.

‘No you’re not.’

The earring he’d been given was a small stud with a flat front and a rounded back where the mic was. A shade not too lighter than his own meant that unless anyone was actively looking at his ears, the wire was unnoticeable. Perfect.

They left the precinct just before 9pm as Voight had said and began the journey down to East Street. Matt’s knees shook up and down and his fingers fiddled with each other in his lap. A heavy weight had settled in his chest, reminding him just what he had agreed to do and how quickly it was upon him. Lindsay sat next to him in the van and she pressed a soft hand to his left knee.

‘We’ll get this guy Casey.’ she whispered but he’s knees still shook and fingers still trembled.

The van shook as it stuttered to a stop. They parked a street and a half down from  _ Santorelli’s Bar.  _ The clock hit 9:30pm and Matt’s heart began to race as the clock ticked closer and closer to the meeting time. Before he had time to register the fact that he was going undercover, Jin was in front of him, mouth forming words that Matt couldn’t hear over his racing heart. His breath felt thick in his throat. Lindsay seemed to notice Matt’s panic as she quickly leant down on her knees and pulled Matt’s face into her hands.

‘We’ve got every precaution in place to get this motherfucker, Matt. You won’t be in any danger because the second you are we will be in there guns blazing. Okay?’

Matt nodded, his breathing calmed down ever-so-slightly but the weight in his chest seemed heavier than ever.

‘It’s 9:50pm Casey.’ Voight poked his head through the door. ‘It’s time.’

*

East Street had always been sketchy. In daytime it manifested itself in homeless people shaking cups in the faces of passersby and the occasional stabbing for looking the wrong way at a person. At night though; the street was eerily quiet. The road slick with rainwater that lights shined down on it; and empty footpaths with the occasional girl in a short skirt winking at men in trucks as they passed by. Matt kept his head down as he walked down the street, footsteps echoing as the sounds bounced from building to building. Matt imagined that this was exactly what it felt like to march to death row; cold, lonely, and with a sinking feeling that you’d never get to meet the big guy upstairs.

_ Santorelli’s Bar  _ fell into view quicker than Matt would have liked. The brick building stood out large amongst the grotesque houses it was nestled between. The red neon lights of the sign turned the entrance into a dark red and as Matt creaked the door open, it felt like he’d pushed open the gates to hell instead. The foyer was cold, the hair on Matt’s arms stood up at the lack of heat and he shivered involuntarily. Quiet music echoed around the bar once he entered it. Patsy Cline or someone echoing softly in the background as suited men with scotch and cigars swaggered around the room. Santorelli leaned against the bar in a red suit with a goblet of whisky in hand. He lazily waved Matt over with a finger and pointed for the bartender to pour a scotch.

‘You came.’

‘I gave you my word didn’t I?’

‘Seems I taught you well Lieutenant Matthew Casey.’ He shook his head and let out a booming laugh. ‘ _ Lieutenant,  _ who would’ve thought?’

Matt forced himself to laugh along with Santorelli, ignoring the giant flapping moths that had invaded his stomach. The bartender poured a glass of scotch on the counter and Matt downed it in one, relishing in the spice that tingled the back of his throat. He hoped the liquid courage would ease his nerves.

‘Tell me Lieutenant, how does a high school dropout to work as a junkie escort end up joining the CFD?’ Santorelli sipped at his whisky and gestured for the bartender to pour Matt another.

‘The more accurate question Santorelli is why a CFD Lieutenant ended up returning to his past as an escort.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Maya Coleman.’

The smile disappeared from Santorelli’s face. His eyes darkened and he licked his lips as he leaned back onto the bar. He looked at Natt up and down and motioned for him to move in closer.

‘She wanted out of that admin job down on Main Street, I gave her a chance to earn some cash on the side to keep her tied down until she got back on her feet again.Why? You seen her around lately? Bitch owes me money.’

Matt forced himself to not flinch at the way Santorelli called Maya a bitch. Even more so, Santorelli seemed to be under the impression that Maya was still alive and simply avoiding him because she owed him. A foul feeling settled in Matt’s stomach as he realised that Maya had gone back to Santorelli for help and not him.

‘She’s dead.’

Matt studied Santorelli’s face. He watched as the man’s smile turned downcast, his eyes darkening and he sniffled. Santorelli turned away from him and motioned for the bartender to pour another glass. His phone beeped and Santorelli sighed as he pulled it from his pocket, barely glancing at the screen before turning back towards Matt.

‘Your client’s here.’

*

Somewhere in the midst of Matt’s two year stint at Santorelli’s Bar, the man had upgraded them from performing their services downstairs to paying house visits. It’s how Matt found himself standing in the foyer of a mini mansion in suburbia. Mrs Cattral’s husband was away on a business trip and she didn’t like entering the bar where all his business partners attended. Apparently Santorelli owed her a favour and this was her way of cashing in. Matt didn’t mind. 

‘Hang your coat up and pop your shoes on the rack.’ Mrs Cattral wandered past excitedly, bouncing up and down on her heels as she waited for Matt to hang everything up. Her eagerness caused a tension in Matt that he hadn’t quite anticipated. He had yet to work out whether this was a good thing or not. 

Mrs Cattral led him up a set of spiral stairs to the master bedroom. The room, beige in colour, was filled with a spacious four poster king bed and bare except for a chestnut dresser in the corner. She must’ve noticed him ogling at the room as she let out a dramatic sigh.

‘My husband thinks clutter is distasteful.’ She lay down on the bed and fiddled with the string on her robe. ‘He lets me decororate the boudoir although I’m sure you’re not interested in that.’

‘No ma’am. I’m here for you and you only.’ Matt jumped on the bed next to her and she giggled loudly as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

‘Tonight you are all mine.’

*

She looked older now. Granted fifteen years was a long time and Mrs Cattral was pushing fifty when they’d first met. She looked disheartened, donning a silky blue dress and a feather in her dyed red hair. She still had her lips painted in the same red he’d first kissed them in. Mrs Cattral was perched on a stool at one of the tables in the corner of the bar. She stirred her cocktail around and around in the glass. Matt hoped, even if for a second, that she was his client. Mrs Cattral was always nice, they’d exchanged more than just bodily fluids in their sessions and though he’d never tell, she was the reason he’d managed to become a firefighter in the first place.

The hope had vanished as quickly as it appeared though because soon enough Santorelli was leading him down the dismal corridor to where this big client would be waiting. Matt’s hands shook and his breaths shortened as they drew nearer to the room where services took place. Matt hoped that CPD would bust in and get him out but that depended on whether he’d managed to get the answers that they were looking for. Knowing Matt’s luck, probably not. The corridor seemed never ending and despite the loud music in the bar, their footsteps echoed off the walls.

When they finally stopped outside the door at the end of the corridor, Santorelli rested a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry about Maya.’ 

Santorelli patted Matt softly on the back before knocking on the door and sauntering back towards the bar. It was just Matt now, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet as he heard footsteps from inside the room. A sick feeling settled in his stomach and some cruel part of him wished he could take a hit before whatever was about to happen. The footsteps drew nearer to the door, Matt sucked in a breath as the handle turned painfully slowly, squealing as it did so.

*

Mrs Cattral’s curls surrounded her head like a halo. She giggled like a schoolgirl as Matt pressed soft kisses to her neck and whispered sweet nothings into her ear. That was one of her special requests. Her husband was a man of few words and apparently during sex he liked to grab her by the wrists and call her a whore. 

‘I let him, of course,’ she said one night as she lit up a cigarette in the bed next to him ‘But to him I exist only to fuck and for him to show me off on his arm.’

‘Why’d you let him?’

She’d stared at him, hard and took a long drag of her cigarette. She closed her eyes, holding the smoke in her mouth and then she breathed out; the grey floating about the room in thick swirls. Mrs Cattral rolled onto her side, her boob spilling out the silk robe she’d loosely tied and she sighed.

‘It’s the price I pay for not being like you.’

Later, when he recounted the conversation to Santorelli, the older man had grabbed him by the hair and threw him up against a wall. They’d been told that while working under Santorelli to not divulge any personal information about themselves. Apparently Mrs Cattral wasn’t a Mrs Cattral and her husband was someone much scarier than he’d initially thought. 

‘You’re playing a dangerous game Matthew. Mrs Cattral pays big bucks for you to fuck her not be her therapist.’

‘Yes boss.’

Still, Matt hadn’t been able to get Mrs Cattral’s words out of his head. He’d been restless all night, tossing and turning in the bed next to Maya. She’d been quiet lately, not talking to him as much. She’d barely said a word when he’d wandered in earlier as she was wiping her thick eyeliner off on an old baby wipe.

‘Stop moving.’

‘Sorry, I can’t sleep.’

Maya huffed next to him and roughly turned over to face up.

‘C’mon then, spill it.’

‘It’s nothing, you won’t care.’

‘Try me.’

And so out the words came. He whispered then in the darkness of the bedroom and Maya listened. He could feel her nodding next to him, and when he’d finally stopped talking she brought a thin hand to his face.

‘We gotta get out of here Matty.’

The paleness of the moonlight had dimly lit up the room and he could see that Maya’s eye glistened as if she had shed tears. 

‘We can’t do this for the rest of our lives. I can’t let men pay Santorelli to fuck me. I can’t keep using just to get through it. Please Matty, tell me you feel the same.’

‘Okay, okay. Let’s come up with a plan. We can’t wander out with nothing because it’ll bite us in the ass later. Let’s explore our options.’ Maya’s shoulders had started to shake and Matt pulled her into his arms, not caring that his shirt dampened with her tears,

‘We’ll figure it out Me-Oh-Maya. We always do.’

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment and kudos if you enjoyed this :)
> 
> **I work two jobs and attend university full time so please cut me a bit of slack while I work on part 2 - I'm hoping for a late August update but that's subject to change.


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